I DO NOT OWN TITANIC 1997 OR THE GREAT GATSBY 2013. ALL RIGHTS BELONG TO JAMES CAMERON, BAZ LUHRMANN, AND F. SCOTT FITZGERALD. I LOVE BOTH FILMS/BOOK AND WHILE SOME CROSSOVERS HAVE BEEN ATTEMPTED, MOST HAVE NOT BEEN COMPLETED. THEREFORE, I WOULD LIKE TO THROW MY OWN HAT INTO THE RING. THIS IS A GLIMPSE OF WHAT WOULD HAPPEN IF NICK CARRAWAY HAD MADE THE FATEFUL VOYAGE.

"In my younger and more vulnerable years...my father gave me some advice: "Always try to see the best in people," he would say. As a consequence, I'm inclined to reserve all judgments. But even I have a limit..." Nick Carraway, The Great Gatsby.

London, England. April 8, 1912.

I can't help but find it fantastic how a simple choice can truly set your life down an entirely different course. For example, if my grand father had not decided to move from Charleston, South Carolina to St. Paul, Minnesota, Carraway Hardware would have never existed. It had been good to us, for by the time I was born in 1892, the business had prospered in those forty one years and moved my family from poverty to the upper middle class section of St. Paul.

Despite our good fortune and our pleasant lives, my father never let me forget that we should never put on airs in front of the less fortunate; not long ago we had been among them. I'd taken his advice to heart and as a result, I never really felt truly comfortable with the wealthy crowd who sometimes deigned to speak to us. The only person exempt from this was my cousin, Daisy Fay. After the success of our store, my aunt Cecile had moved out to Louisville where she had married Forrest Fay, a wealthy Louisville socialite. She had a voice full of money, but she never looked down on me for living a less bourgeois existence.

Another example of a change of course in my life was that if I had not graduated valedictorian, class of 1910 from North High School, I would not have gotten a scholarship to Yale University; nor would I have met my best friend, Tom Buchanan. He hailed from one of America's wealthiest families. His ancestors had started a successful shipping business during America's colonial days and as a result, Tom had been born into several generations of money.

By colossal accident, Tom and I had been placed as room mates at Yale and despite our differing personalities, (me being more introverted and Tom being exceptionally extroverted), we ended up becoming friends. He had taken Yale's Polo team to 2 national championships, whereas I was a lead writer for the school newspaper: Yale Daily News. Our fellow students knew us as Boazand Shakespeare.I earned my nickname for obvious reasons, but Tom earned his when he told the story of how he'd quote the story of Ruth during his confirmation ceremony and had forgotten that Boaz was Ruth's nearest kinsman.

After 2 years, Tom and I were awarded with our associates degrees. When the following Spring break rolled around, Tom invited me to accompany him to spend a fortnight in Europe. The temptation to experience European culture proved far too difficult to resist, so I agreed.

We had a wonderful holiday indeed as we'd gone to Berlin to experience the unrivaled taste of German beer; which proved to be utter divinity as it rushed down our throats and served to us in large mugs by the most beautiful Dirndl girls in the city.

Our next stop was Paris, which was drenched in Bohemia. A wise man hold told Tom and I that French girls had no qualms about taking their clothes off; especially if there was money to be made by it. Perhaps it is ungentlemanly, but despite my strong convictions, Tom convinced me to accompany him to a whorehouse in the French capital where I could not help but enjoy myself.

The last stop on our holiday was to jolly London. While it was quite pleasant indeed, it was also where our luck finally ran out. Tom caught a nasty round of influenza and was bedridden for the final days of our trip. When we summoned a physician, Tom was disheartened to learn that he was in no condition to travel. Upon the end of our holiday, Tom had brought us 1st class tickets on the RMS Titanic, the newest vessel for the White Star Line and according to our travel agent; it was the final word in luxury on the seas.

"Feeling any better, Boaz?" I asked after the doctor had taken his leave.

"It's going to take far more than the flu to kill me, Shakespeare." Tom answered with a weak chuckle.

"Tom, I don't mind waiting another week to sail home; I wouldn't feel right leaving you here." I insisted as I fetched him a glass of water.

"Ah Nick, these tickets cost a thousand pounds each. The suite I bought for us was damn nice; at least one of us should get some enjoyment out of it." Tom insisted in return as he drank the water I offered to him.

"Are you sure, Tom?" I asked again, It was Tom's father's money that had been funding our trip and I didn't feel right spending it without Tom.

"Ah Nick, always the responsible one. I hired one of those English nurses to stay with me until I'm over this and then I'll be back lickity split." Tom assured me as I offered him a small smile. Despite how guilty I felt for leaving my friend in a foreign country, the opportunity to enjoy the maiden voyage of a ship like the Titanic in 1st class was far too good to pass up.

"All right then, just promise me that you'll beat this, Tom." I said, trying to see that strength that was otherwise constant inside him.

"I always best everything...life is something you dominate Nick, if you're any good." Tom said with a belly laugh as I went to pack my bags to ready myself for the journey.

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